


Middle Ground

by WhaleWishes



Series: Middle Ground [1]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, First chapter is pretty heavy on the suicide, It'll chill out immediately I promise, sort of slice of life with a side of murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-10 12:04:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15291135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhaleWishes/pseuds/WhaleWishes
Summary: Not a survivor, not a killer, but something in between.





	1. A Rocky Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Please for the love of god read the tags. I'm not tryna trigger anyone over here.

Everything started -as with most things in her life- with a swirling of crows wings and the violent emptying of her stomach.

Okay so -thankfully- nothing in her life _ever_ began with crows and vomiting.

There was a hand on her back, warm and comforting, but cautious in its movements as it passed between her shoulder blades. Upon looking up, she saw she was in a clearing, a ring of thick trees with a large campfire in the middle. Further inward, around herself, a small ring containing several people, mostly young but no one she recognized. It looked like they had all been through hell. She groaned, curling in on herself.

"Where am I?" She managed to croak after a moment, drawing her sleeve across her mouth.

"Hi," one of them started, a guy in a junior manager outfit that had seen better days, "I'm Dwight."

She frowned, repeating her question. "Where am I?"

The pair closest to her looked at each other -a woman with dark skin and Dwight, the assistant manager- for so long that she had to clear her throat to get their attention. 

She followed the pair with her eyes, unyielding.

"Well," Dwight said, scratching idly at the back of his messy hair. "That's just a little bit hard to explain, I'm afraid."

"Bro, I just showed up in a tornado of crows. Hit me with the explanation."

 

* * *

 

"So The Entity..." she began cautiously, tapping her fingers on her thigh. She pursed her lips. "Okay so The Entity runs this shit, right? Like _everything?_ "

"Right."

"And it uses you guys -along with a select group of horrible, bloodthirsty murderers- to... I don't know, run these trials where the main goal is to like...harvest fear and misery?"

"Exactly!"

"Alright sure. But have y'all ever tried to just kill yourselves?"

Everything was silent as more than a few heads swiveled towards her. They glanced between themselves.

"I've tried," one said slowly, a girl with ripped jeans and dyed hair. "You just end up right back in the same place. And it really fucks over your teammates, too. I wouldn't try it." She said all this without looking away from the fire, as if this is something she had thought on a lot.

She paused. "Right, Blaine-"

"Dwight," he corrected impatiently.

" _Dwight_ ," she amended, "guys its nothing personal but I don't think this is going to work out."

"You don't really have a choice."

"I always have a choice," she snapped back, irritated and not quite thinking rationally. "You're trying to tell me I'm trapped in hell wearing the shittiest cat sweater imaginable where my job is to die horribly for the rest of eternity." She rose to her feet shakily, hands fisted tightly at her sides. "Well, what I'm telling _you_ , is that The Entity caught me on a bad week. I'm going to die on my terms and if The Entity has a problem with that, it can say it to my face."

* * *

 

Her first trial had been in the swamp. She became aware of herself standing on a massive boat that hadn't moved in a very long time. She wondered briefly if things that were beached inland were still considered beached. Oh, grounded. She gathered that the boat had been grounded for a very long time.

She caught a glimpse of the hulking form of a man in the distance and shook her head. "Nope, not today," she muttered to herself, full of spite as she made her way to a corner and strung herself up.

Her second trial went no differently, ending with a nosedive off a creaking structure in a place so dark the moon in the sky -even full- couldn't touch the shadows there. 

The third time she faded into sweet oblivion, it was with a piece of glittering, broken glass in the basement of an old farm house. The basement was a room filled with the smell of old moonshine and with massive hooks, skittering with an oppressive darkness that set her teeth on edge.

As she became aware of herself again -such a strange feeling to be completely unaware and then having the world around you fade into focus- somewhere almost completely unfamiliar to her.

'Three strikes, you're out,' she thought, scrubbing idly at the dried blood on her arms as she took it all in.

After a moment she gathered that it was a campsite identical to the one she had left. She took a second to orient herself before stepping forward and turning, calling out a greeting in case someone was nearby. 

She got no response. Not even an echo or a chirping bird or a snapping twig. 

 "Oh, the ol' isolation game, huh? Well jokes on you, bitch, I _love_ isolation!" She howled at the sky as she eased down on one of the termite-eaten logs. "Oh and while I'm at it," she yelled again, feigning warming her hands by the not-fire. "Your fire sucks too! It's not hot, it doesn't spread, and it's overall really poorly done. Zero-out-of-ten. And the moon! Might as well tackle the moon too! Terrible if you're going for a realistic environment. Like, oh geez, wow guys, look, its another full moon. So _dramatic_ , honestly. Like where's the crescent moons? Where's the waxing and waning? Where's the _variety?_ "

She sank lower, putting the log to her back. She crossed her legs and pursed her lips, seething silently as no response came. "And another thing," she yelled again, anger building. "Do you know how much it sucks to have to wear the same thing every day? It was _laundry day_ , asshole. You think I'm just going to show up dressed like a 5 year old and cooperate?! I hate this sweater! This is the worst sweater I have ever owned and now I'm stuck wearing it, potentially forever! I can't even imagine how the other people feel! Like that one guy was wearing the saddest manager get up I've ever seen. He was still wearing a tie! Vest and all!  _In hell!_ Like how in the fuck does that guy cope?"

It was at that point that the man on the other side of the clearing started sobbing.


	2. Empathy

She froze. Only a moment ago, she was sure she was alone.

  _'The Entity will try to trick you,'_ she remembered Dwight saying as she rose carefully to her feet.

She paced the campsite slowly, giving the stranger a wide berth as he continued to sob.

"Hey," she began slowly. "Are you real or are you some kind of test?"

The man continued, ugly, painful-sounding sobs wracking his body. His arms were crossed over his chest tightly, holding onto his dirty button-up at the shoulders. His voice was hoarse, as if he'd been crying for a long time without stopping.

'Another survivor, maybe?' She asked herself as she moved in closer. 'I mean who else could be so dirty and run down?'

Regardless of who he was, she felt her heart clench in sympathy. As someone who had had her fair share of panic attacks, it was gut wrenching to see another having one.

She moved in closer, crouching in front of him now. "Hey," she said slowly. "I'm going to put my hand on your shoulder and if that's not okay, I need you to tell me now, alright?"

She hesitated still before moving forward, giving the man ample time to protest.

"Okay..." she murmured, bridging the gap. She placed her hand on his shoulder carefully, rubbing up and down in a way that she prayed was more soothing than awkward.

The man looked up at her so sharply, she almost jerked her hand back. He was huge with broad shoulders and thick limbs. If he decided to stand, she knew he would dwarf her in comparison. His eyes were red from crying and his cheeks were tear-streaked and caked with dirt. The man's teeth were crooked, peeking from beneath chapped, down-turned lips as his broken sobs faded in sniffles.

"Sh, shh," she continued. "What's wrong? What happened?"

The man made a broken noise of distress, as if trying to say something and failing. He made another sound, unintelligible, that had her nodding her head in sympathy. 

She got the feeling that the man wasn't much of a talker, be it by choice or otherwise.

"It's okay, big guy. I know things might be awful now but they can't be terrible forever."

_Liar._

"All we can do is push forward and hope things get better soon, isn't that right?"

_Hypocrite._

They were words spoken, regurgitated for so many years that they lost all meaning. She brandished them now like an olive branch to the stranger.

"See? Not so bad." She breathed slowly as the man's sobs faded.

-and then as the man himself faded.

She staggered back, startled. 

"How did you do that?" A new voice asked, familiar.

She turned slowly, looking for the source of the voice.

"It's me, the bird. How'd you make him stop crying?"

As she turned to face the bird -a crow, no surprise- she realized suddenly that it was speaking to her using her own voice.

"The guy was having a panic attack. I just calmed him down."

"Huh."

It was silent for a moment as she and the crow regarded each other.

"Why are you using my voice?"

"Just a tactic to make sure we don't get any wires crossed." The crow laughed eerily, her own laughter ringing through the otherwise silent campsite. "Don't worry, kid, I won't keep it."

 "So are you The Entity or...?" She asked finally.

"Yeah," the crow said simply, as if the single word would suffice.

As it turned out, the single word absolutely would not suffice.

"That's all you have to say for yourself? 'Yeah?' How about an answer for all the suffering? How about an answer for who or whatever that man was?"

"Nah on the suffering, but that was one of my killers, Leatherface. You would have met him a couple trials ago if you weren't such a pussy." Here the crow stopped, cocking it's head at her. "He eats people and you comforted him while he was having a panic attack. How does that make you feel?"

"What had him so upset?" She dodged the question easily.

"I'm no expert on humans. He stopped cooperating in the trials so I took his mask and his weapons and dropped him in isolation almost a week ago, human time." The crow hopped forward with a laugh. "I just dumped him on you to see what would happen, if we're being real."

She cringed inwardly. Seven days, yikes.

"And now that he's calmed down?"

"Back to the trials, of course. We've all got our jobs." The crow stopped to preen, feathers catching the low-light of the fire. "There might even be a special job for you if I can get a little cooperation."

"Cooperation," she echoed, unsure.

"Cooperation. You scratch my back, I scratch yours, how 'bout it?"

"I'm listening."

"What if -and I know this is a wild idea- you stopped killing yourself for ten minutes and worked with me to make the trials better for all parties."

"...Still listening." Better for all parties meant better for the survivors around the campfire with their dead eyes and ragged clothing.

"I heard your complaints earlier, about the fire and the moon and your shitty cat sweater and...I'm listening. Admittedly I don't know much about what makes humans tick. But I do know that happier survivors and killers really ramp up the trial output."

"So you want me to -what?-be your consultant? Explain human feelings?" 

"Well..." here the crow cocked it's head at her, taking another hop forward. "There's a little more to it than that."

_Always a catch._

"See, if we're going to work together to make the trials as realistic as possible for all parties involved, I'm going to need to become a part of you." The crow followed her across the campfire with eyes much too intelligent to belong to an animal. "I don't want you to just describe to me, I want to feel, smell, taste, the works,  _through_ you. In order to make this perfect, I need to feel the heat of the fire and see the moon through a human's eyes. Do you understand?"

"That's the most ominous thing I've ever heard," she laughed, startled. "And if I decline your oh so generous position?"

"Then you go back to the trials where you'll eventually get bored with killing yourself and start cooperating with the others. I can promise you that I'll wait you out."

"So manager with a side of human puppet, then? That's the job description."

"I suppose," the crow said. "But there are certain bonuses."

"Bonuses?" She asked, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "What kind of bonuses are we talking here?"

"Whatever you want. I can give you a beautiful home, a nice little place all to yourself, as much stuff as you can hoard...name it and I can make it happen." The crow stopped to laugh. "I can even fix that shitty brain chemistry of yours."

"That's the most tempting thing you've said yet."

"Thought that might get your attention."

She hesitated, pivoting from one foot to the other nervously. "Will it hurt?"

"Only if you let it."

She pursed her lips, unsatisfied but unwilling to push the issue further. "Let's make a deal then, Entity."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leatherface is definitely most likely of the killers to have a panic attack, bless his terrible heart.
> 
> Also (if it comes up) I'm going to have the survivors refer to him as 'The Butcher' because A) how would the survivors even know my boy eats people and B) it sounds way cooler so


	3. The Deal

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she felt everything shift.

The ground beneath her feet was gone and she was suspended, as if by invisible threads, that held her firmly and would not be shook off.

Everything was dark -horribly dark- except for a small ring of light that surrounded her. She tried in vain to see past the edge but couldn't, the strain making her eyes water.

Then suddenly, from the darkness, a hand.

The fingertips were the color of tar, black and impossibly sharp, as it presented itself to her.

She hesitated, suddenly unsure. She knew for a fact that this was the best chance she was going to get at dodging the trials. Still a chess piece in a never-ending game, sure, but not a pawn. 

The hand paused also, as if sensing her trepidation and drew back and away slowly.

"Shall we go over the terms once more?" A new voice said, not her own and not one she had heard before. It was wind chimes and expensive clinking glasses, ethereal in a way that had her lightheaded.

"So long as my conditions are met, you'll live in luxury with whatever you need. If my conditions are not met, however, I'll take from you what I see fit, are we understood?"

The lights rose slowly as if with a dimmer, and when she saw the entire figure it was like all the air disappeared.

The being was tall -well over seven feet- and had an air of inhuman beauty as she stood barefoot beneath her lacy floor-length gown. Her face was shrouded by an ivory colored veil that was so long it trailed the length of her body and pooled around her feet.

She wondered why the entity was exactly how she had pictured, if this was one of The Entity's tricks.

"It is, although I would not call it a trick," The Entity said, voice loud and clear as a bell in the empty dark space. "This is how you've imagined me, so this is simply how I've chosen to be."

 "Sure," she said dumbly, awed. 

"Now as I was saying, whatever you wish belongs to you, so long as it does not interfere with your work. You will lend your assistance with environmental changes and with the managing of pawns. I will provide you with the abilities needed for both."

"Of course, of course," she murmured, still dazed. _'I'll give you whatever you want,'_ she almost said but bit her lip instead.

The Entity laughed softly and the sound had her overwhelmed immediately. 

"Now is there anything you would like to add?"

_'Just that maybe I'd have more to say if you were less beautiful,'_ she couldn't say, still completely tongue-tied.

"Perfect," The Entity said, offering her hand once more.

She grasped it slowly and gave a sharp gasp at the iciness of the grip. She tried to pull back, on reflex, but found she found that the hand would not budge.

"It will be easier on you if you do not struggle." The Entity's said, face completely hidden by the veil and unreadable.

From within the handshake, an inky blackness crept, starting at her fingers and then working it's way up her arm and beneath her rolled sleeves.

She felt cold, frozen, as the darkness spread across her body, under her skin and permeating deep. She gasped when it hit her lungs, giving a raspy inhale that had her eyelids fluttering. 

 And then just as suddenly as it began, it was over, leaving only the icy chill behind.

"Now then," The Entity said, no longer in front of her but from within her. "Would you like to see your new home?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! Shortest and last chapter complete. 
> 
> If you're like enjoying the story or whatever don't worry because it's not over. And if you're hating the story, I'm sorry! It'll be a series where the majority is drabbles because I'm more of a drabble person anyway. The drabbles will probably star all the killers and survivors at some point so like we'll see how that goes.


End file.
